


my nonexistent date made us go dutch

by specuality



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, no magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specuality/pseuds/specuality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, anyways, thanks for replacing my non-existent date and making me pay the twenty plus tips for my meal that I probably could have gotten for free."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. #OperationFreeFood

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: [ man fakes being stood up at restaurant for free dessert ](http://rivergrandrapids.com/man-fakes-being-stood-up-at-restaurant-to-try-to-get-a-free-dessert/)

_"It's Emma. Just calling to let you know I'm at the restaurant. Text me when you get here. I got us a booth near the back."_

_"Hey Jamie, just wondering where you are. Call me when you get this?"_

_"Hi, it's Em again. There's a plate of tortillas and extra-spicy salsa waiting with your name on it."_

From her booth in the farthest corner, Regina could see the waiters shooting worried glances at one another. Ugh. She hadn't come to Chili Peppers to watch the back of a blonde woman's head as she got stood up. She came for the mozzarella sticks.

It wasn't like she could get her fix at home. No, not with the health bull she spouted off at Henry. She would have felt guilty if she didn't also know that Henry spent a good half of his allowance on milkshakes at Granny's. As it was, they were both lying to one another about where they went after work (or school in Henry's case).

Tonight, Henry was having a sleepover at Kyle's house. ('His parents bought the Avengers DVD. We're going to watch it until we know every line by heart.' Regina supposed she could see the appeal of watching Chris Hemsworth and Scarlett Johansson kick ass. She wished her son the best of luck.) So Regina had taken the night off to treat herself. 

In front of her, a waiter approached the blonde's booth to refill a single glass of water. Her name was Emma, Regina had noted, from the ten million messages the blonde had left her missing date. Okay, so there were only three calls, but she'd very clearly mentioned her name in two of them, so it wasn't like Regina was eavesdropping or anything.

She overheard the man murmur something entirely  _not_  comforting, like "The traffic is really bad. Over by the 255, if she's coming from that way." And watched the way that blonde head bobbed up and down, "She'll be here, I'm sure. Five more minutes."

A basket of mozzarella sticks came and went, but no Jamie appeared.

Regina herself had no idea what she was doing still waiting there. She had come for her cholesterol sticks and she should have left, like, half an hour ago. But here she was, playing the Angry Birds app that Henry had downloaded onto her phone.

 _Stupid pigs._  

She quickly put away her cellphone when she saw another server finally approach the blonde's booth again. Regina eyed the two before her with complete disinterest.

"Would you like to order first, miss? Perhaps your date has just been delayed, er, by the weather."

All three heads turned to look out the front of the restaurant and the waiter visibly winced. It was a clear, summer evening. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.  _The sun hadn't even gone down yet._

"Yeah, probably." The woman sighed. If possible, her shoulders seemed to be hunched even lower than before. The waiter looked like he was about to take his pad and smack himself over the head with it. Regina hoped he would. Repeatedly.

Emma's head dipped slightly, an action that Regina guessed was the blonde checking her phone one more time, before the woman sighed. "Okay." She looked up at the waiter. "I'm sure she'll be here any minute, but.. could I get the jalapeno and crispy onion prime rib burger? With fries."

Emma's meal arrived twenty-three minutes later, but her date was still a no-show. 

The waiter set down the plate of food gently in front of the woman, like he was delivering the body of her dead puppy that he'd run over with his car.

He was just about to back away when the woman spoke in quiet tone, "I guess she never really planned on coming."

Holy - 

Regina got up, threw several bills down next to her plate, and shouldered her purse. She was probably going to regret this, but good god _._ The second hand embarrassment was too strong.

She nudged aside the waiter who looked like he was practising the Hover for a meet-and-greet at the next comic con on the blonde's shoulder. He lingered for a second, despite looking immensely grateful for being spared the awkwardness of comforting a heartbroken stranger. But Regina shot him The Look and he hurried away to clear her table. 

She  _gracefully_ plopped herself down in the seat opposite Emma. And _expertly_ hid her pleasant surprise when she came face-to-face with one very good-looking, very surprised blonde. Who said being forced into politics by your overbearing mother didn't pay off? (She did. For like the first six years.)

"Uhm," the blonde looked extremely uncomfortable by her sudden presence. It wasn't Regina's problem that she'd never had an attractive woman approach her before. "Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you." Wow, that wasn't creepy at all. She cleared her throat and spoke again before the blonde called over a waiter. "Your date stood you up."

It wasn't a question. The blonde nodded and sighed dejectedly, "It's okay, I guess I should have seen it coming."

"Uh, no." Regina's word vomit escaped her before she could get a lid on it. Because seriously? This woman was gorgeous with her dumb blonde princess curls and her dumb face. Everything was just.. dumb. "Unless your date has been hog-tied in the trunk of some guy's vehicle, she's an absolute moron for standing  _you_  up."

The 'you' was emphasized with a half-body sweep with her eyes (the table was preventing Regina from doing the whole thing) that was probably - totally - inappropriate to do to a lady stranger. Regina honestly wouldn't have blamed Emma if the blonde decided to toss her out of the booth on her ass. 

But the woman just bit her lip and shifted in her seat, strangely enough looking guilty before making eye contact. Christ, Regina groused internally, she had amazing eyes too.

"Thank you.."

They sat there for a minute, just looking at one another. Well, Regina was watching Emma and Emma was staring at her ginormous burger kind of lustily. If anything, the blonde could probably go into a food coma for the rest of the night and forget the humiliation of being stood up.

"So.. not that I'm not grateful for your concern because I am, but why are you still here?"

Don't brain fart, don't brain fart. 

"I thought maybe you'd look less pathetic if you had someone sitting with you."

Smooth. No wonder she hadn't been on a (successful) date in years. 

The blonde rolled those pretty, green eyes. "Thanks, but I'll be okay." Emma glanced around the restaurant, eyeing a few servers who were currently preoccupied with other diners for whatever reason, before she gestured towards her burger and said in hushed tone. "Us two, we'll be just fine."

Regina narrowed her eyes. "Why do you keep looking at the servers?"

"What? No, I don't."

"You did it just now!"

"Shush!" Emma whisper-shouted. "Don't talk so loudly."

"It's impolite to shush a stranger, Miss.."

"Swan. I mean, no! Stop trying to distract me." Emma's eyes darted to a few waiters who were looking curiously over at her booth. Dinner rush hour was over now and there were only a few patrons left in the Mexican restaurant. "Shit, shit." The blonde muttered under her breath.

"Why are you so eager to have me go? I'm not stopping you from having at your carb wrapped transfat."

"Says the lady who ordered half a pound of mozzarella sticks." One dark eyebrow quirked up like it was saying 'oh yeah, we heard you. And we're judging you.'

Luckily for Emma Swan, the waiter decided to come by at that moment to refill the blonde's glass.

"Ladies," his eyes flickered with confusion over at Regina, but the brown-haired woman just smiled pleasantly. "How is everything going?"

Emma's face dropped with sadness, "Well, my date still isn't here.. but.. the food is great, I guess. Thank you." A despondent sigh. 

The poor man gestured at Regina. "She isn't your - "

"No." Emma spoke quickly. "No idea who she is."

"Well," the waiter cleared his throat, "we don't normally do this, but we spoke to our manager about your, ahem, situation tonight, and she has agreed, as a token of our sympathy, to make your meal comp-"

In the few seconds that the exchange between the blonde and the waiter took place, realization hit Regina like a pile of bricks. Or more like the obvious glint in Emma's eyes. Call it a maternal instinct to sniff out mischief in the making, but whatever it was, Emma Swan was busted.

"That won't be necessary." Regina reached over to place her hand over the blonde's.  "Emma has been  _emotionally_  wounded by the outcome of this date, but I'm sure her wallet hasn't taken any sort of hit. And I, being the good friend that I am, will be here to support her through this trying time."

"Are you sure, madam ma-" The waiter asked uncertainly.

"No!"

"Yes. Everything is lovely. You may leave now. I know your shift was supposed to end twenty minutes ago, Derek."

The blonde dropped her head onto the table as the waiter walked away.

/

Emma held the door of Chili Pepper's open for Regina. They had called out their goodbyes to the remaining servers as they left and Emma, of course, had to snatch a few extra mints from the bowl at the cashier counter on her way out.

The brunette wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"What? They're free."

The woman merely crossed her arms. 

"Right. So anyways, thanks for replacing my non-existent date and making me pay the twenty plus tips for my meal that I probably could have gotten for free."

"Are you kidding me, Miss Swan? You're lucky I paid for the nachos -"

"You ate them all!"

"Do you have any idea what you put those waiters through? I'm pretty sure one of them was about to give you a number for suicide watch before I sat down."

Emma scowled. "I wouldn't have ordered an appetizer at all if I knew my experiment was going to be crashed by some nosy business lady."

"Sorry to say that your attempt at swindling a free meal from underpaid servers is not what most would call a social psychology experiment. And I am not 'some nosy business lady,' I am the mayor of this town and _you_ are lucky I didn't call the deputy down here for what you tried to pull tonight."

"Ugh, you might have to." Emma placed her hands over her stomach that was as bloated as an unpuffed pufferfish. That is to say, it didn't look bloated at all after what was probably an entire cow the blonde had ingested. Regina seriously hated this woman. "I walked here from the B&B I'm staying at, but I feel like a human balloon right now. You might have to roll me home."

Regina let out a very un-mayorly snort. "No one forced you to eat the entire burger."

The blonde looked incredulous. "What else was I supposed to do with it?"

"Take home the leftovers? Exercise self-control like a reasonably well-adjusted adult?"

"Well-adjusted is a dirty word, Regina." The blonde smirked. "Besides, I've got nowhere to keep it. Room I rented doesn't exactly have a kitchen and I'm heading off to Boston tomorrow morning anyways."

"Oh?" Nope, Regina was not getting sad butterflies over the thought of this strange, blonde woman she had only just met leaving her town. It was probably the nachos. She pushed on. "What's in Boston?"

Emma shrugged. "Something. Maybe nothing. I'll see when I get there."

"Probably nothing." Regina found herself saying. There was definitely something wrong with the nachos. "You should probably stick around Storybrooke for a little while. We've got somethings, too." Ugh, it was like her mouth was operating separately from her brain.

Emma didn't respond right away and the brunette hurried to pick up whatever scraps of dignity that was left lying around in the glowing sign of the Mexican restaurant. "Of course, you probably have things to do in Boston, people to see. Perhaps another Jamie to stand you up." A nervous giggle escaped her lips. What was she, thirteen? "So I won't keep you -"

Emma seemed to shake herself out of whatever trance she'd been in. "No, I'd love to stay."

"You're really not obligated."

"I don't feel obligated. I want to stay." She said sincerely, before smiling that infuriating smirk again. "Check out the somethings."

Regina sniffed, simultaneously pleased at Emma's decision and disturbed at the callback to her choice of words.

"Come, I suppose it's my duty as mayor to give a woman pregnant with a food baby a ride back to their place." She stepped off the curb towards her parked Mercedes, but turned around again when she didn't hear the click-clack of Emma's boots following her. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Emma put her phone away. "Let's go."

/

Emma Swan @theswan83: #OperationFreeFood is a no go, sorry folks. But #OperationWinOverScaryMayorLady is in the works.


	2. #OperationWOSML

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I must have missed the memo that said salads were an indicator of a blooming romance."

One month later and it seemed like Emma's little stay in Storybrooke had become a more.. permanent arrangement. Regina would have been far more pleased by this if she wasn't busy being so damn frustrated with the blonde.

So far, they'd done coffee, brunch, and 'friendly' dinners at Regina's place. There was even that one night where Emma had convinced her to go for a few rounds of karaoke. Regina probably could have gone another twenty years without knowing she was tone deaf. Yeah, that ended well.

But Emma had yet to ask her out on a _date-date._

Their mutual attraction was glaringly obvious, and  _not_ just because Regina had creeped Emma's Twitter account. (It wasn't stalkerish to Google someone's name, right? She had to make sure she wasn't letting some gorgeous, blonde psychopath into her life. Because serial killers totally microblogged their kills.)

The blonde was about as subtle as Kristen Stewart's sexuality. On more than one occasion, Regina had caught the other woman staring at a couple of her best assets. So what if the mayor had gotten a little more clumsy since she met the woman? It wasn't a crime for a person to accidentally drop a pen and bend over to pick it up right when said person knew a certain blonde was directly in front of or behind them.

Even Henry had taken an immediate liking to Emma. At least, until Emma had been hanging out one Saturday afternoon and accidentally saved over the boy's Pokemon file on his Nintento 3DS. 'One hundred and twelve hours of my life! Gone!' It was as close to tears that Regina had ever seen her pre-teenager come to in the last year. 

But Henry came around eventually. Eventually meaning  _after_ Emma stayed up for two days straight to build up a new team for the boy. Which was honestly a ridiculous amount of time for the blonde to spend on a video game she didn't even particularly like, but Regina couldn't help but feel endeared to Emma more for caring that much about her son. 

So, they  _could_  have been having awkward first dates around town, avoiding visits from Regina's mother, and all those other wacky situations that Regina expected of a normal relationship, according to comedy media. (She teared up every time she watched a Nicholas Sparks movie, but that didn't mean she wanted Emma in a dress shirt, screaming 'I wrote you every day for like a year!’

Who was Regina kidding? She would kill to see Emma in a white button-down in pouring rain.)

Really, the only thing left to do was for the blonde to just ask. 

Instead, Regina was sat there in her mayoral office, scrolling through the Twitter timeline on her phone while waiting for Emma to pick her up for their very platonic lunch date. The mayor was only following one person. Henry still hadn't accepted her follower request. She'd definitely have to have a talk with her son about that tonight. 

Emma Swan@theswan83 _:_ About to take a special lady out for lunch #OperationWOSML

The mayor was pleased that Emma had chosen to abbreviate the Operation name soon after that first tweet on the night they met. She found it much less offensive a read. She wasn't  _that_  scary. 

Regina tapped her phone.

Favorites: 1 (@DaMillzions)

Ugh. Her only excuse was that Henry had made the account for her. 'It's punny,' he said, 'Because your last name is Mills and you're rich.' Regina considered cutting down his allowance. But thanks to Emma’s big mouth, he had the ammo of her Holy Sacred Mozzarella Sticks under his arm, so she let it go. They'd made a mutual pact to quit their guilty, dairy little secrets cold turkey, but Regina still had a box of the stuff buried deep in the basement freezer and on more than one occasion, Henry had come home with suspicious brown marks at the corner of his mouth, so..

Anyways, Regina could see that the blonde had garnered quite a following after her little stunt at Chili Peppers and the brunette just hoped Emma would overlook the somewhat familiar Twitter handle.

A voice sounded from just outside her office door.

"Knock-knock."

Regina slipped her phone in the pocket of her blazer. "You may enter."

Emma Swan strolled in with her usual swagger, thumbs tucked into the pockets of her jeans. Her blonde hair had been straightened out today and Regina wished she could say the woman looked less princess-y, but Emma might have actually looked even more attractive. Seriously, how could the blonde have that much physical confidence and  _not_  have the balls, or ovaries, or whatever, to ask Regina out on a date?

"You ready for lunch?"

Regina grabbed her purse. "I was born ready, motherfucker."

Emma gave her one of those judgey-confused looks that the brunette was a recipient of more times than was appreciated.

"Henry told me he wanted to watch Blade Trinity, so I Netflixed it last night to see whether or not it was appropriate."

"Ah. And how was that?"

"Definitely too much foul language."

"Right."

They left the town hall for Granny's in Emma's police cruiser. Regina sat in the back because Emma had spilled root beer all over the passenger seat.

Romantic.

/

The mayor stabbed at the remains of her chicken caeser salad.

"I think it's dead."

She shot the blonde a withering look, but Emma just smirked and stuffed a bunch of fries in her mouth. 

"So, how is the sheriffing?"

"Mphne." Regina watched with satisfaction as Emma struggled to chew and swallow before responding. "Fine. You know, Storybrooke is like a fully-colored Pleasantville."

Regina made a face. "You mean, minus the outdated gender roles and racial barriers? Then yes, I do know. We don't get too many trouble makers around here. Just the occasional interloper turned food thief."

"Ha-ha," Emma said, pointing at the brown-haired woman with her burger. "And that's interloper turned sheriff, thanks. The people chose me."

"Well, it was either you or our only decent journalist, and you did misspell Storybrooke on your posters."

"It's not my fault Word didn’t recognize your town's name and autocorrected it."

Regina snorted. “Maybe if you designed your posters with an actual graphics software, that problem could have been avoided.”

“It’s called minimalism. Look it up.”

And with that, Emma took a particular vicious bite into her cheeseburger.  A mixture of beef juice, tomato sauce, and mustard ran down the sides of her mouth, before proceeding to drip all over the table. It was like a train wreck Regina couldn’t look away from. Why did she like this woman again?

The blonde caught Regina staring at her with a look of mild disgust and fascination and she grinned. There was a piece of lettuce stuck between her two front teeth. "Wanna bite?"

No, universe, that was _not_ why.

Regina let The Look speak for itself. It was truly one of the few handy skills that Cora Mills had passed on to her.

Emma shrugged. “Suit yourself. I don’t know how you can stand eating salad every day for lunch.”

“Not everyone has the metabolism of a fifteen year old boy.” The brunette grumbled. "I'd look like a beached whale if I ate like you."

"Really? Because I'd say you have a really nice, olive-toned skin. Do you go to a tanning salon?" She sat up a little straighter. "Does Storybrooke even have a tanning salon?"

" _Beached_  whale, Miss Swan, not bleached whale."

"Oh, right, yeah that makes more sense." Emma shrugged and Regina watched as the blonde popped the last bite of burger in her mouth before wiping at her mouth with, thankfully, a napkin. “Anyways, I don’t think you have to worry about that. You’d still be one happenin’ mayor, with or without your salad.”

Regina put her head in her hands to hide the pleased smile that had spread across her face. Christ on a cracker, it was like the blonde had taken hostage of her feelings and then decided to put on a puppet show with her face muscles. She paused. Those were pretty sinister sounding analogies. What if _she_ was the psychopath here? Nah, who would run the town if she was off butchering people all the time? There weren’t enough days in the week.

She shook her head clear of those thoughts (and the fact that her brain had just suggested that scheduling was the only thing preventing her from becoming a serial murderer) to look up at the blonde. Both their eyes were twinkling in mirth.

“Happenin’? Really, Miss Swan?”

Emma gave her a dazzling, lettuce-free smile. “Politically correct Pleasantville, right?” And she got up to Regina’s side of the booth and held an arm out. “M’lady.”

Yes, there may be hope for Emma Swan after all.

/

One week later and the only incident of note had been when Emma had brushed her hand against Regina's ass, and then proceeded to backtrack by claiming she was reenacting a scene from Finding Nemo ('I touched the butt!’). Regina Mills had had quite enough.

The moment Emma opened the door, the mayor stormed in and pinned the woman with The Look (could she patent that?), as well as her hands-on-the-hips stance. Oh yeah, she meant serious business.

"Good morning to you too."

"Emma Swan, it has been forty-one days since you tried to scam yourself a free meal, thirty-three since you invited yourself over to my home for dinner, sixteen since the people elected you as my sheriff, and four days since you 'accidentally' touched my rear end, so basically: Are you going to ask me out on a date or not?"

Regina felt completely disgruntled when the blonde started laughing. She hadn't expected Emma to cower or anything (okay, maybe a little), but a full out guffaw in her face? What a complete waste of her power stance.

Before the brunette could come up with a dramatic enough exit strategy, Emma gathered herself and said. "I don't know,  _DaMillzions_ , are you going to stop stalking me on Twitter and favoriting all my tweets?"

Regina crossed her arms. So she was caught. That didn't excuse Emma for emotionally blue-balling her for over a month. "I did not favorite all of them."

"Yeah, just the Operation-Win-Over-Scary-Mayor-Lady ones, right?"

Duh, those were the most flattering and interesting of Emma's tweets.

"Exactly." But her body still felt rigid. So maybe she was a just  _little_ bit ashamed about her underhanded use of social media.

The blonde noticed Regina's embarrassment and finally wiped off that shit-eating grin. She gave Regina a sheepish smile. 

"Until you started following me and being generally terrifying with liking all my tweets, I just thought it was kind of obvious that something was going on." She gestured towards the bowl of green on the coffee table. "I mean, haven't you noticed I've been eating rabbit food sometimes?"

"I must have missed the memo that said salads were an indicator of a blooming romance."

"Hey, I don’t give up my bear claws for any old mayor."

Regina narrowed her eyes. "Did you just call me old?"

"Okay, now you're just messing with me."

Regina smirked and unfolded her arms. She let the blonde pull her in so that she rested between Emma's legs as the other woman leaned against the doorpost.

She sighed as she relaxed in the other woman's arms. "I’m sorry that I stalked you on Twitter.”

“You’re forgiven. Even though I know you tried to check out my entire timeline.” At the mayor’s indignant look, Emma hurried on. “You accidentally favorited a tweet from last year.”

Regina turned pink. She _knew_ she should have asked Henry to recalibrate the touch screen of her phone. Out of the corner of her eye, the sad looking bowl of arugula reminded her: “But you really should eat more healthily for yourself, not just because I'm shaming you to."

"I do. Mostly. Do it for myself."

The brunette just hummed neutrally.

“So..”

“So..?”

Regina wrapped her arms around Emma’s neck. “A date?” She asked, almost shyly.

“A date. Right.” It was getting a little hard to think with Regina's body pressed so closely against her own, and the way the brunette was biting her lower lip was kind of, sort of, _really_ distracting. "I can do that. But I was thinking instead of a regular, boring movie and dinner kind of thing, we could spice it up."

"Yeah?" Regina brushed her nose against Emma’s. They were practically sharing the same breath. 

"Mm-hmm, we could go to separate restaurants across town, stand one another up, grab the, uh." Emma stumbled over her words when one sneaky hand reached down to cup a firm cheek. "The food and head back to your place. It'd be fun. And free. Free is good."

"Emma." The blonde felt Regina murmur against her lips. "Shush."

"Is this the part where you tell me to kiss you?"

"It was implied."

"Kay."

Emma closed the distance between their mouths.

/

Emma Swan @theswan83: #OperationWinOverScaryMayorLady is a #success

Da Millzions and Henry M. favorited your Tweet

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and you shall receive. (as long as my creative juices are still flowing)


	3. #OperationFreeTurkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you wanna come over, order in, rent a movie, and not watch it?" Was what Emma meant to say. What she said was: "Do you wanna come over, watch a movie, rent in, and not order it?"

Regina contemplated the hashtag name for a good half hour. It had to be clever enough to get other Tweeters on board with the idea, but concise enough to maintain their interest. This generation had the attention span of a gnat feeding off a heroin addict.

#OperationGetEmmaSwanToStopEatingRedMeatSoSheCanLivePast40 was thrown out the window pretty early in the game.

The mayor still had only five followers, and all but one Sidney Glass were spam accounts. She’d demanded to know why Henry and Emma refused to follow her back. ‘I do what everyone else does and make inane comments throughout my day. That’s how it works, right?’ Yes, they had agreed, that was how Twitter worked. But apparently, they had no interest in reading tweets about budget reports or pictures of said budget reports.

Their loss, Regina thought.

She got back to brainstorming an operation name for her plan. Because the blonde’s love affair with dead bovine was seriously getting out of hand. Emma had literally nearly choked to death because of her obsession. Regina supposed she had played a teensy-weensy part in that, but how was she supposed to know the woman would try to swallow before properly masticating her food?

It had been the blonde’s birthday several weeks earlier and Regina had cooked up a feast fit for a foodie queen. The entrée was an arugula and grape salad topped with sunflower seeds that both Emma and Henry actually enjoyed and finished without complaint. But when Regina brought out the main course, mother and son watched horrified as the blonde’s eyes went manic. As soon as the plate was set down, Emma all but attacked the triple AAA steak. The brunette had pulled back her arm _just_ in time.

Gristle and droplets of fat stained Regina’s white, imported linencloth where the blonde’s elbow rested against the table. Henry had leaned over to whisper in his mother’s ear.

“Do you think she’s going to birth a cow one day?”

Regina had double majored in political science and history; biology had never been her strongest subject in high school, twenty-dumdeedum years ago, so all she could recall was that mitochondria was the powerhouse of the cell and the heart was on the left side of the chest. Or was it right? Her right, their left? Yes, that was it.

She very honestly whispered back. “I don’t know.”

Regina watched as one of those demonic possession shudders made its way through the boy’s body. Poor kid. There was a small chance Henry would be traumatized once he entered Storybrooke High in a few years. That requisite human birth video they forced the kids to watch in science class was not for the faint of heart.

It was only a moment later when Emma began to choke on a particularly large cut of steak. Regina had to give the blonde mouth-to-mouth after she found that she wasn’t nearly strong enough to heave and squeeze her taller girlfriend in the Heimlich. She tasted half-chewed meat for a second before she spat it out on the already ruined tablecloth.

The things she did for love.

It was definitely not one of Regina’s top ten kisses. Unfortunately enough, her mother playing interference in her love life several years earlier meant it wasn’t her worse either.

So the plan had come to her as she lay in bed after that fateful night at Regina’s manor with a very satisfied Emma curled up in her arms. It was quite simple, really: Thanksgiving was coming up and all she had to do was cook the perfect turkey and turn Emma over to the dark side.

After a taste of her forbidden white meat, Emma would have no choice but to give up the beef. Hopefully. Once the blonde hit her forties, no amount of Zumba DVDs would fix that awful diet of hers.

The tip of a pink tongue stuck out of a dark red mouth as she tapped her smartphone. '#OperationTurkey'

Hmm, that sounded a bit boring. If Henry were here, he'd probably say it was  _for_ turkeys. Ha. Except he wasn't born in the sixties, so maybe that pun was all Regina. An even better idea popped into her head. She quickly typed it out and pressed Tweet.

Regina @DaMillzions: #OperationFreeTurkey has begun.

She didn’t know why turkey needed freeing, but Emma always said that free stuff was good and she had over five hundred subscribers. She was a mayor, not a social media guru.

Regina was quite disappointed the next day when no one but Sidney had commented on her well-thought out name.

/

Today was the day Regina popped the question. It would be their first big family dinner holiday and she didn't expect the blonde to say no, but anything could happen. Like Emma's apartment catching fire or the blonde falling into a coma on the day in question. Regina didn't give a lot of leeway when it came to excuses.

"Is turkey going to be there?"

The mayor grinned. Her plan may come to fruition with less resistance than she thought.

"I think I might be able to convince it to make an appearance."

"Gross, I hate turkey." 

Of course she did. Regina pulled herself away from the blonde woman’s arms and glared.

"Kidding, I love everything you cook. I’m sure your turkey will be amazing even though  _every_  single time I've had it in the past, it's always tasted like dry feet."

“You would know.” Regina said smartly. "And maybe it would have tasted better if, oh, it  _didn’t_ come from a frozen container?" 

"I guess it's a good thing I have you to do all the cooking now." 

Emma received a smack on her arm.

"Ouch, domestic violence already? We're not even living together yet."

Regina pushed Emma against her desk and trailed her hands along the blonde’s hips. "Yeah? Well, maybe you should call the sheriff on me."

She had just brought her lips down in an open-mouthed kiss against Emma's neck when an  _ahem_ sounded from behind them. 

"I don't think your constituents would be too pleased to hear you and the sheriff making light of abusive relationships, madam mayor."

Emma groaned and rested her cheek against the other woman's head. The town drunk was a worse cockblock than Regina's son. (Lovable munchkin that he was, Henry Mills had an incredibly horrible sense of timing.) She breathed in deeply. But damn it if Regina’s hair didn’t smell good.

The man continued to grumble. "Also, I can see your hands up Emma’s shirt."

Regina quickly pulled it out and Emma let out a grumble that put Leroy’s to shame. The brunette straightened the blonde’s crimson blouse. It looked like she had been caught red-handed. No, the mayor scolded herself, now is not the time for puns, Regina Mills.

"Shut up, Leroy." The blonde called over her shoulder.

"No, he's right."

"I don't care, you can totally leave your hands -"

"Not that, the other thing."

"Oh. Oh, right. Yeah," Emma looked ashamed. "That was wrong of us. Sorry. Hormones, y'know."

"I didn't realize the two of you were teenage boys."

"Hey," Regina exclaimed, "my son is almost a teenage boy."

"That's very observant of you, sister, would you like a gold star?"

Regina eyed the stapler on Emma's desk. She had a pretty good aim from helping Henry make the softball team. She squinted at the solidly built man standing in his cell. Yeah, it'd probably fit through the bars. 

Emma hopped off the desk and moved Regina back a little before the brunette could make a grab for the appliance - that was the  _good_ stapler, thank you very much. Dating the mayor unfortunately did not get a department any extra funding. Believe her, Emma had tried. 

The blonde unhooked the cell keys that hung from her belt.

"Okay! Clearly, you Leroy, are all good and sober this morning, so why don't you get on out of here." Emma made a motion with her arms. “Scat, before my girlfriend kicks your ass.”

The man rolled his eyes as he stomped out of the room, "Yeah, I bet you two just want to consummate this cell."

"That's not true, we already -"  _Smack._ "Ow, my good stapler!"

/

Regina @DaMillzions: #OperationFreeTurkey is a go.

Retweets: 1 (@SidneyMGlass)

/

On Thanksgiving Day, Emma was _bored_ as all get-out.

Regina had commanded both her and Henry to stay out of the house, as the woman would be busy preparing the fancy-shmancy dinner for most of the day and she didn't need any distractions. When Emma had offered to help with the cooking, Regina had just laughed in her face. So fine, whatever. Emma was an adult who could occupy herself for several hours.

She dragged a couple of boxes out from under the bed and spent the morning unpacking the rest of her things in her brand new apartment. Well, brand new was pushing it a bit. The bathroom needed desperately to be re-papered (and in a colour that was not pastel, thank you), the counter tops needed to be varnished, and flecks of white fell off the entrance door every time it opened and closed. But in any case, it was new to _her_ and Emma kind of loved it.

The previous owner had been so desperate to move in with her fiancée, Emma had gotten it at practically a steal. She didn't mind the old-lady smell that the woman left behind, either. It was one of those charming, rustic little flats with grey concrete flooring, exposed brick walls, and lots of open space. There wasn't even a wall to separate the bedroom! Neato.

But after two boxes of clothing were neatly tucked away and the cutlery and dishware were stored in the kitchen where they belonged, there was nothing left for Emma to do.

She lazied about on her sofa for much of the afternoon. The blonde had considered going in for work even though it was her day off, but ultimately decided against it - unless Pongo ran away again, she’d be doing the same thing at the office anyways minus the comfort of her sweats. 

After a pathetic attempt at reading the book Regina recommended her (Count of Monte Cristo. Emma had already watched the film. Her girlfriend was _dark._ ), she turned on the television. Emma wasn't used to keeping up with any of the current series. The blonde's old job didn't exactly leave her a lot of time to sit around and watch daytime or even nighttime television.

She sighed as she flipped through the channels before settling on some show about musical teenagers. It gave her an idea. At about half past four, when she guessed that Regina would probably be done with all the cooking, she dialed the mayor's home number and waited for the woman to pick up.

“Regina Mills speaking.”

"Do you wanna come over, order in, rent a movie, and not watch it?" Was what Emma meant to say. What she said was: "Do you wanna come over, watch a movie, rent in, and not order it?"

She held her phone away from her ear as Regina's loud cackle boomed through it.

“Okay, you can come over later when you're being less mean."

"No take backs!" Regina said. Emma could hear the clinking of metal hangers as the brunette moved through her closet. "I'll be there in ten. And you know we’ll be doing none of those things? Except maybe the movie. The turkey should be done in an hour and a half, so pick something short and afterwards, we can go back to my place to eat.”

Emma sighed in a much put-upon way. “I suppose that’ll do.”

“Yes, it will. Oh, and dear, do yourself a favour and stop watching Glee. It's a terrible show."

She could just  _hear_  Regina's smirk through the phone before the other woman hung up.

/

They fell asleep on the couch, cuddled into one another. The intro to Dino Riders from the cellphone on the opposite end of the coffee table woke them up.

“Henry,” the brunette mumbled groggily and then sat up so fast, _Emma_ got whiplash. “Henry!” She gasped again. “Turkey!!”

The mayor nose dived for her cellphone. “Henry?!”

Emma could hear Henry on the other line. _“Mom?”_

“Are you okay? What time is it? I left the turkey in the oven! Is the house burnt down? Oh my god, are you dead? Oh my god, I’m a terrible mother, I killed my own son. What kind of mother kills her own son?!”

Emma patted Regina’s shoulder comfortingly.

_“Yes, I’m okay. It's like almost 8, I think. The turkey is still in the oven. No, the house is not burnt down and no, I’m not dead.”_

Regina was too busy hyperventilating to respond. Emma had no idea what to do. How did one go about calming a panicked mayor when said mayor thought turkey _and_ her son were on the line?

_“Mom, breathe. Remember the exercises Dr. Hopper taught you when you had to go to those anger management seminars so that Mr. Spencer would drop the assault charges?”_

Immediately, Regina stopped hyperventilating and started scowling.

“Albert Spencer is a perverted, old man-hag who can't take a hint if it kicked him in the – oh. Nice work, dear.”

_“No problem.”_

Regina clutched at Emma’s hands worriedly and the blonde brushed her thumb against the woman’s knuckles as soothingly as she could. “I’m sorry, Henry. I went over to Emma’s for a little bit, but we didn’t expect to fall aslee-“

_“Ewwww! TMI, mom!”_

“Sweetie, we really just fell asleep. On the couch.”

Henry merely grunted in obvious disbelief. _“Whatever. I guess it was a good thing Kyle’s parents dropped me off a little early. I turned off the oven for you.”_

Regina let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sweetheart. So the turkey is okay, then?”

They both heard the clanging of Henry pulling open the oven door through the line.

_“Well…”_

/

The turkey was most certainly not okay.

It hadn't set off the fire alarm or anything and it wasn't burnt to the crisp, but it definitely was _not_ the luscious, saliva-inducing, alliance-changing hunk of bird that Regina had spent all of yesterday basting, stuffing, and preparing. One look at it, and she knew it’d have the texture of sandpaper.

They tossed it in the bin and drove back to Emma’s, but not before making a stop at Food n Things.

Henry now sat cross-legged on the one seater, far away from the couch that his mom and Emma were resting on. In each of their laps sat a plate of Hungry Man’s roasted turkey dinner. Regina had pointed out that if she was going to have to eat premade food (‘how else is food made?’ Emma demanded), it sure as hell wouldn't be out of the plastic container.

The Thanksgiving scene from Addams Family Values played on the small TV set in front of them. As Wednesday delivered her classic thanksgiving speech, Emma cleared her throat.

“So.. this isn’t so bad.” The blonde said hesitantly.

Emma felt awful about ruining Regina’s perfect Thanksgiving dinner, and she’d already apologized an endless number of times since Henry’s call, but the mayor had assured her that it wasn't entirely her fault. They’d _both_ agreed to watch Driving Miss Daisy, so the blame was shared, really.

“It’s.. something.” Regina sniffed at the gravy sauce. She scraped as much as she could to the side and forked a discolored piece of meat. She brought it past her lips.

“You were right though.” Regina said through a mouthful of processed turkey. She chewed and swallowed. “It does taste like dry feet.”

/

Regina @DaMillzions: #OperationFreeTurkey was technically a #success.

Regina @DaMillzions: @theswan83 and @henryosaur #Follow4Follow?

 


	4. #OperationCoranado

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Emma, stop, you’re going to kill a brain cell and then the other one will be very lonely and sad.”

The Jaws theme played from the backseat of the car.

_It was a dark and stormy night. The wind was howling as sleets of snowfall pounded relentlessly against the black vehicle. The Swan-Mills family drove along the deserted street, edging closer and closer to their destination - a towering, red and grey-bricked mansion. Little did they realize they would meet their doom at the hands, er, fins of a powerful she-shark the moment they stepped through those do-_

“Henry, stop the music.” The makeshift soundtrack cut short as the boy tapped the pause button on his music app. “I swear to god, if you don’t quit it with the voice-over, Emma Swan, I will stop this car and kick _your_ dark and stormy night.”

The blonde huffed and crossed her arms, slumping in her seat like a petulant child. “I can’t help it! I narrate when I’m nervous.” She began to furiously bounce her leg up and down and Regina could feel the vibrations from her driver’s seat.

Regina had never been a particularly spiritual woman, but at that moment, she promised to convert to whichever deity that would grant her the patience to make it through the evening. She counted to ten in her head (damn Dr. Hopper) before she spoke again.

“If you reviewed the pointers I gave you about proper dining etiquette and table manners, you’ll have absolutely no problem tonight.”

“You mean these?” Emma reached into the shiny, black handbag that Regina had lent her for the occasion and pulled out a two inch thick stack of flashcards held together by a pink rubber band. She slapped them down on the dashboard. “Regina,” the blonde whined, “I don’t think all of my high school notes have this much information in them.”

“You dropped out of high school.”

“Fine, then. All of my community college notes.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” The brunette muttered under her breath.

Emma chose to ignore the comment. She picked up the stack of cards and flipped through them. “How am I supposed to remember any of this?” She pulled out a card from the middle. “I mean, why are there four different kinds of forks? What’s wrong with just the one?”

Regina sighed.

They drove past high-rising black gates and up the circular driveway towards Cora’s manor. Okay, so her mother’s gothic house did give off an evil lair sort of vibe. But Regina knew the fact that the mansion looked like it could set the next premise for American Horror Story was not the cause of Emma’s anxiety. As much as Regina herself was worried about the dinner with Cora, they all knew the blonde would be the one under fire this evening. And Regina probably didn't help what with playing Be Prepared from The Lion King all week long. She really had wanted Emma to be prepared! Was that so wrong?

She glanced to her right when Emma started slapping the flashcards against her face.

Maybe.

She slowed down the Mercedes as they reached the entrance where one of her mother’s manservants was waiting for them and reached for her girlfriend's hand. “Emma, stop, you’re going to kill a brain cell and then the other one will be very lonely and sad.”

The blonde just glared at her.

So much for trying to inject a little humour into the situation.

She placed a warm hand on the woman’s thigh. “It’s a dinner. You can do this. And as a reward, once it’s over, you can come back to our house, drink all my homemade eggnog, and pass out on the couch – it’ll be just like any other night this week, actually.”

“Really? I can drink all of it?”

“Emma, don’t worry.” Henry piped up from the back. “Operation Coranado, remember?”

Regina raised a dark eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

Emma chuckled nervously. “Just a little plan the kid came up with to get me through this dinner.”

“I see.”

“You’re not mad that we made a portmanteau out of your mom’s name?”

“No, it’s actually quite fitting.”

Henry nodded his agreement. “And you have to be strong for it.”

“Easy for you to say.” The blonde grouched. “She already likes you.”

“So what does this plan actually consist of?” Regina asked.

“Surviving.”

/

“Regina, sweetheart, it’s been too long.”

Cora cheek kissed her on both sides before giving a warm smile to Henry. Then, she turned to Emma. If the blonde gripped Henry's shoulder just a touch too hard, he didn't say a word.

The older woman tilted her head in confusion that was most definitely feigned – the mayor had sent her mother _three_ confirmation e-mails for this dinner.

“And I see you’ve brought your.. nanny?”

Regina sent up a prayer. _  
_

/

The first forty-five minutes went _great_.

As great as one could expect at a family dinner with an overly passive-aggressive mother and a nervous, but defensive girlfriend. But Regina was impressed by Emma’s efforts tonight. The blonde had complained about the pointers Regina gave her, but she’d clearly absorbed some knowledge from smacking herself with the flashcards because she had only mixed up the cutlery once.

Not that the older woman noticed the blonde’s struggle over which fork to use for the salad. No, Cora Mills had been too busy taking every opportunity to drop not-so-subtle jabs about Emma’s past. It was obvious that Cora had known Emma was not Henry’s nanny when she stepped through the front door because the older woman had clearly done her research. Everything from the foster homes to her juvenile delinquency had been dragged up in thinly-veiled questions throughout the first two entrées and half of the main course.

_Miss Swan, would you say that The Fosters properly represent the issues that children in the system face?"_

Okay, that one wasn't so bad.

_"Miss Swan, is it true that lesbianism runs rampant in women's federal prisons?"_

Well..

_"Miss Swan, were you born a twin and have you now or ever felt the desire to move in with my daughter, dye your hair, and take over her position in her son's life?"_

Somebody needed to take away Cora Mills' copy of Single White Female ASAP.

But the woman's attempts at driving a wedge between the two were coming up horribly short. Emma and Regina hadn’t _just_ spent the last five months of their fledgling relationship finding creative uses for chocolate syrup and drawing a unibrow on Leroy's face when he was passed out drunk in the cell. Emma had shared as much of her past that she felt comfortable with with the mayor. Which was a lot. Because she trusted Regina a lot.

The blonde was pretty certain there was nothing more Cora could bring up about her admittedly shady history that could damage the relationship she'd formed with the mayor. Unfortunately for all of them, Cora realized this too, as she immediately changed her tactic midway into the main course.

“So, Emma, you were twenty? Twenty-one? When you were finally released from jail, is that correct?”

The blonde refrained from rolling her eyes. The older woman had already brought that up. Cora Mills seriously needed to up her game. “Nineteen, actually.”

Cora nodded like she actually cared. “It must have been quite a difficult adjustment for you – having to integrate back into civil society.”

Emma refused to take the bait. Someone had to take the highroad here, so she responded seriously. "Sure, but I was lucky enough to have a few people give me a chance. And they had some really helpful programs at community centres around the city to help you, like, polish up your resume, develop soft skills, stuff like that." 

“That’s fascinating.” The older woman said in a tone that indicated it wasn't. A wicked smile spread across her face. “Regina herself was only twenty-four when she decided to make some big changes in her life as well, isn’t that right, dear? What with only having been mayor for a year, my girl then decided to adopt a baby boy," She flashed a smile in Henry's direction as she said this, "So I’d daresay that whatever you accomplished hardly compares..” The older woman continued talking, but Emma couldn’t hear a thing.

The Coranado had struck. And ripped right through the bond of a mother and son, leaving nothing but a trail of broken hearts at the table once Cora had finished speaking.

Regina had already told Emma the story of how Henry had come into her life; the emptiness in her chest before a closed adoption brought into her arms a reason for living and a reason to smile. She wanted to tell Henry, truly, but she just never knew how to bring it up. And even though Emma agreed that the boy deserved to know, it wasn't her call and she would have never forced Regina to do something she wasn't ready for.

Cora Mills didn't have the same qualms, it seemed.

Henry was quiet, looking down at his lap, his scraggly brown hair hiding his expression from the three other women. The only sound in the room was the clinking of Cora’s knife and fork against her plate as the woman carried on as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on the family dinner. It felt like minutes before the boy finally looked up. His eyes were shiny with tears.

“Mom..? Is it true?”

“Henry –" Regina’s voice broke, but before she could continue think of something, anything, to say to her son, Henry was out of his seat and out the double doors of the dining room.

Regina turned around, tears prickling at her eyes, ready to give her mother a verbal lashing of a lifetime, but nothing came out. She just shook her head, threw her napkin on the table, and ran after her son.

Emma stayed seated. She’d been nervous about the meeting this woman the entire week, but now she felt nothing but pissed off. Cora could sneer at Emma's upbringing and criminal record all she wanted - frankly, Emma didn't give a shit. But to disrespect Regina's authority as a parent just like that? Her natural protective instinct kicked into full drive.

Emma curled her fists into her lap.

“Look, Mrs. Mills, I understand you’re unhappy that your daughter’s dating a woman, but -”

“Believe me, _Miss Swan_ , the fact that you are a woman is the least of my concerns.”

Right, and all those lesbian comments earlier had just been Cora's subtle way of coming out to her daughter.

“Fine. Whatever issue you have with Regina seeing me, you had _no_ right to do that to her relationship with Henry.”

“Given your own history, I thought you’d appreciate what I did. Henry is a clever boy, much smarter than I gave Regina credit for when she first told me she intended on raising the child.”

How had this woman lived long enough to be a grandmother without being slapped into another dimension?

“He would have found out sooner or later. Whether it was by my mouth or someone else’s - and as someone who no doubt has been searching her entire life, I think you would agree that I did the right thing by telling Henry the truth about his real family.”

“Are you delusional?” Emma snapped. “Regina _is_ his family. And Henry deserved to hear the truth from his mom, not his crazy, old grandmother.”

The woman didn’t even bat an eyelash at her words.

“The fact remains, Miss Swan, that if it had been left to Regina’s devices, Henry would have gone the rest of his life without knowing his true lineage. And as cowardly as my daughter can be, I only did what I did tonight because I love her enough to let her hate me. Eventually, perhaps in a year or two, her relationship with Henry may begin to heal itself." She gave Emma an oh-so sympathetic smile. It made the blonde sick. "In the meanwhile, I doubt she'll have very much time for you what with her hands full with Henry's emotional needs and all. And she will forgive me eventually. I am her mother after all. But for now, if this is the price I pay for Regina to put a stop to whatever dalliance she has with you, then so be it."

"You'd throw your own daughter and grandson under the bus just to get rid of me."

Cora did not deign herself to address the unasked question.

"Secrets are not conducive to healthy family relationships, dear. Not that you would know.”

Emma stood from the table so hard, her chair toppled backwards. A butler standing by the double doors quickly reached down to upright the fallen furniture. _Seriously?_  Now was not the time, Jeeves #2.

“You know what, lady? You’re right." Emma didn't stop to take in the brief flicker of surprise in the older woman's face before she continued. "I wouldn't know. And I’m glad as hell because _your_ idea of a healthy family? Sounds _really_ fucking terrible.”

She stormed away from the table.

The food wasn't that great anyways.

/

Emma found Regina and Henry sitting in the backseat of a running Mercedes, holding a bucket in their laps. There was a small dessert spoon in the boy's hand.

“Uh,” Emma turned around to shake off the butler that had followed her with an umbrella out into the snowfall. “Thanks, Jeeves, I’ll take it from here.” He nodded and passed off the umbrella. She definitely liked him better than Jeeves #2.

Emma quickly got into driver’s side of the vehicle and turned to look at the mother and son. The blonde could see no evidence of tears or the look of betrayal that had been in the boy's eyes not ten minutes earlier. In fact, Henry's head was rested quite comfortably against Regina's shoulders as he offered up a tiny spoonful of white pudding to his mother's mouth. 

Aww, it was almost like she'd stepped into some alternate universe where Regina's mother  _wasn't_ a spawn of Beelzebub, the dinner had been splendid (with lots of pudding), and Cora had welcomed her future daughter-in-law with open arms. But considering the speech Cora delivered that told the blonde in no uncertain terms to screw off, there was a fat chance of that happening. 

Henry looked up at Regina, a small familiar smirk playing on his lips at seeing the blonde's totally confused expression.

“Can I tell her, mom?”

Regina just raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you better, dear.”

“Grandma’s cook really likes me and sneaks me a bucket of my favorite tapioca each time we visit. She leaves it behind that rock over there.” Henry pointed out the window.

“Okay, that’s great. Now what about what your grandma said, kiddo?”

“Oh yeah, I already knew I was adopted.”

Emma's eyes widened in surprise, even as relief took over her. She knew Cora had been full of shit about Regina ditching her to focus on Henry, but hey, she was a foster kid. She was allowed to have abandonment issues.

“What? How?” Her green eyes turned to meet Regina's darker ones. “You told him before?”

“She didn't.” Henry replied. “But I overheard mom and Mr. Gold talking about it once and that’s how I know.”

“When was this, kid? How come you never said anything?”

“More than a year ago now, I think.” Henry scrunched up his face, trying to recall what had happened. “I was really angry at first. I ran back home, even packed up all my stuff in my bag so that I could live in the castle. But then it got dark and it started to rain, so I came home. And I saw mom crying and screaming at the whole police department in the living room.”

“So.. Deputy Graham and the previous sheriff?”

“Yeah.”

“And then?”

The boy shrugged. “I ran away because I thought she didn’t really love me since she wasn’t my real mom.” The blonde’s eyes flickered to Regina’s face and she could see the hurt on the other woman’s face even though they both knew that wasn’t how Henry felt anymore. “But what I saw through the window.. Sheriff Michaels and Deputy Graham looked _really_ scared. Like, for their life. And if she didn’t love me, she wouldn’t have freaked out so much, right?”

“Exactly right, kid.” Emma smiled even as the mayor scowled at being described in such an uncouth manner. But she had freaked out when her son hadn’t come home that afternoon. And then that idiot Michaels had claimed he couldn’t issue an official search until Henry, her _ten year old son_ , had been missing for at least 24 hours. She had been a second away from throttling the man before the doorbell had rang. (Henry had left behind his keys.) As it was, she fired him the next day instead.

Henry never told her why exactly he had run away that day. Every time the mayor pushed, the boy would close himself off for a while, so she eventually accepted the fact she'd just have to trust her son to let her know when he was ready. And though this wasn't the disclosure either of them had imagined, it was out there now.

“Okay, so you know.” Emma nodded, taking in the information. “And you’re not angry about it?”

Henry shook his head. "Mom's still mom. Nothing changes that."

Regina looked about ready to burst into tears.

”Then what the heck was up with the whole crying trip back there?" The blonde's hands flew to her head. "You seriously freaked us out, kid! I mean, I basically told the old hen - no offense, Regina -" "None taken." "to go stuff it for damaging your relationship with your mom. Oh crap, Regina, I told off your mom!”

“I was just trying to get us out of there! It worked, didn’t it?”

Emma groaned at her epic failure tonight.

“Kid, you’re either gonna make a really good actor, or an evil mastermind one day.”

“Can’t I be both?”

Regina smiled proudly.

“That’s my boy.”

/

Emma Swan @theswan83: starteda ferom the bottom nd now we’re heeeeere!! #OperationCornado @DaMillzions thank u my eggnog

Henry M @henryosaur: @DaMillzions Mom, can you get Emma to stop singing so loud, I’m trying to sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologize for making this chapter a bit more serious than the previous ones.


End file.
